A/N: Hi guys! I had a request for a St. Fabray ficlet recently, and this is the result! It was quite new to me, as I've never written Quinn before - what do you guys think? Thanks for reading and your reviews will make the world happier. :)

"Well hello, Miss Fabray."

Quinn rolled her eyes. She knew who that voice belonged to and she was not in the mood to deal with its curly-headed owner. He'd been driving her crazy ever since their run-in three weeks ago at the modeling class she'd taken just because she needed to get out of the house. It was her first summer without cheer and gymnastics keeping her busy and everything – her break-up with Finn, her mother's nagging, thinking about the last two years – was just too much for her. The modeling class was supposed to be an escape.

He'd been insistent and annoying then, too – "Quinn! It is lovely to see you. Brushing up on your modeling skills, I see – it's always nice to put experience behind natural talent. You'll see that I'm doing the same, of course –"

And she had been as dismissive as ever. "You punched out my date on prom night, Jesse, I'm not really interested in discussing catwalk techniques with you."

It hadn't done her any good.

And it wouldn't today. "Come on, Quinnifer, don't tell me you're not happy to see me," Jesse wheedled as he glided up beside her. "I know you loved the Nutella once you tried it - don't even try to deny it, I know these things." He waved a hand. "I could open your culinary eyes again this week."

He had run into her in the grocery store two days after the class, almost startling her into a display of granola when he slipped up behind her with his now-signature greeting - "Well hello, Miss Fabray."

And he'd been there every week since, popping out of baked beans displays and stacks of s'mores supplies and overstuffed boxes of fireworks and scaring her silly. "Jesse…"

"Come on, walk with me. Have you ever had guava nectar? No?"

Somewhere along the line she had stopped giving him steely looks, lips pursed, and started going along. She wasn't sure why. Jesse was loud and assertive and somehow more alive than the average person in a way that was simultaneously wonderful and grating. And he tried to make her alive like that, too.

She followed him, silent as he rambled on about juices, just watching him - the confidence of his steps, the slight quiver of his curls - and wondered for the hundredth time in the last few weeks why he was doing this - why he was trying so hard with her.

When he tried to sneak a bottle of mango juice in with the carton of guava nectar he had already tossed into her cart, she threw caution to the wind and just asked:

"Why are you doing this, Jesse?"

"Doing what?" he asked with convincing innocence. "Mango juice is delicious, you know - not to mention it does incredible things for your hair, not that your blonde perfection needs help -"

"I don't mean the juice. I mean all of this." She half-pointed at him. "Are you just being nice to me to make Rachel jealous? Because I've been through that already with Finn and if it's ok with you I'd rather not be used that way again."

"Quinn."

"I just think I deserve to know, alright, St. James?"

She gasped when he pressed closer to her, as close as he could get in the middle of a grocery store without causing a minor ruckus. "There is only one reason I ever think about Rachel anymore," he said, his voice dangerously quiet. "Do you know what that reason is, Quinn?"

"No," she breathed.

"Rachel said that you were the prettiest girl she'd ever seen, and every time I look into those peridot eyes of yours, I remember how much I agree with her."

Quinn blinked a few times, stunned.

"But you're a lot more than that, Quinn Fabray," he continued. "You're going places every bit as much as Berry is if that's what you decide you want." He shrugged his shoulders. "So sue me if I'd like to be along for the ride - to see what you choose to become."

She felt a smile tugging at her lips - her first real smile in ages. "Get another bottle of mango juice," she said.

"What?"

"You heard me. It's good for the hair, right?"

"Well, yeah -" Jesse spluttered.

"Well, even with your bouncy mane, you're going to need a bottle if we're going to my house for lunch - where's the Nutella again?"

It took Jesse a minute to stop gaping, but when he did he was off and swaggering away down the aisle, calling instructions for proper walking technique over his shoulder.

Quinn just smiled.